


Demons of the Mind

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter snorted.  “Talking,” he said in disgust.  “Playing mind games and spitting off phrases I’ve learned inside out.  And most times I say the wrong things at the wrong time.  I can handle a thrower, that’s all.  Everybody can do it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in the mid-nineties

The dark-haired man sat on the damp grass, not minding the dampness at all as he stared at the small lake in front of him.  There weren’t many people around because this was a very secluded spot, away from the paved ways that snaked through Central Park.  It was early in the evening and getting colder.  Summer was still some months away.

                Watching the birds on the lake, the man didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

                “Peter?”

                Peter Venkman didn’t look up as the blond newcomer stepped up to him.  There was a short silence, then the blond lowered himself down on the grass, too.

                “Peter, what are you doing here?” the blond asked softly.  “We’ve been worried sick about you.”

                “Sorry, ‘bout that,” Peter muttered, still not looking at him.  “Didn’t want that.”

                “Why are you here?”

                Peter shrugged.

                The blond man sighed softly.  Judging from Peter’s closed off face and his short answers, his friend wasn’t in a talkative mood.  It had been Ray who had remarked to Egon that Peter was behaving strangely.

t

 _“Egon, I’m worried about Peter.”_

 _“Why?” the blond asked, though he thought he knew._

 _“Did you notice his behavior lately?  He’s not himself.”_

 _Egon frowned, nodding.  He had noted Peter’s reactions and overall behavior lately.  Peter was testy, constantly irritated by everything and 24 hours a day moody.  He seemed to live apart from the other Ghostbusters, as if their company was too much for them.  That wasn’t the normal Peter Venkman.  The normal Peter Venkman was irritating, flippant and appeared carefree.  And he was always around, talking, joking and sometimes being unbearable._

 _“Yes, I noticed that.”_

 _“Winston and I think that something’s wrong, Egon,” Ray continued with a worried look in his hazel eyes.  “We have to talk to him.”_

 _Egon’s frown deepened.  Talking to Peter in his current mood was dangerous.  “I’ll have a talk with him, Ray.”  He placed his tools back on the table.  “Where is he?”_

 _“We don’t know.  He went off a few hours ago.”  Ray looked at his watch.  “A very long time ago,” he corrected himself._

t

                Egon had done the only thing possible: he had gone off in search of their missing friend.  Peter wasn’t at his usual hangouts and Egon had been frustrated after he hadn’t found a single trace of the psychologist.  Then he had remembered this place in Central Park.  Peter had once remarked about the peace and quiet he felt there.  It had been one of those rare, introspective moments and Egon now recalled this very clearly.

                “Peter?”

                The brown head turned again, emerald eyes gazing at Egon with complete disinterest.

                “Peter, what is the matter?”

                The psychologist frowned as if he couldn’t make any sense of Egon’s question.  “What’s the matter with what?” he wanted to know, looking away again.

                “What is the matter with you?”

                “Nothing.”

                Egon sighed silently.  Peter was absolutely defensive.  His shoulders were rigid and his jaw was set.

                “It’s what happened last week, right?”

                Peter flinched, briefly closing his eyes.  Egon had been afraid of this.  He knew there would come a time he had to deal with it, but not so soon.  Last week had been the thrower accident where he, Egon, had been destabilized by his own weapon and turned into a ghost.  Later he had been transported into the Netherworld after the reverse mechanism of the destabilizing effect hadn’t worked.  The guys had gotten him out of there.

                It had taken Egon some time to get over what had happened.  No-one could go through with what he had and go on with his life as if nothing had happened.  Peter had been a big help, just like always when someone was in need.  The psychologist had been there for him, at every time of the day and night, sometimes forcing Egon to talk about what he was thinking.

                Peter had also talked to Ray about the guilt the younger man felt.  It had been a short-lived feeling of guilt, because Egon had assured Ray that it really wasn’t his fault.  Everything seemed to be back to normal.  But it would have been a too good sign if it really had been.

                Now, that he sat beside Peter, Egon chided himself for not seeing the obvious: Peter’s own emotions.  Everybody talked to him about emotional problems.  They dumped all their problems on him — without really thinking about it.  Egon had to confess that he sometimes took it for granted that Peter was there when he was needed.  Not the flippant, smart-mouthed Peter, but the serious, sensible man behind the mask of carelessness and humor.  Peter, in return, had no-one to turn to.  Sometimes, Egon was able to get the younger man to talk to him, but he knew Peter wouldn’t dump on him while he, Egon, had problems, too.  He would close up, hide behind his walls of self-defense and try to act as if nothing at all was wrong.

                Now the things Peter had to chew on had piled up to an unbearable amount.  Egon’s visit to the Netherworld had not been the only thing happening lately.  Others had burdened Peter before that.  His father had pulled another scam, landing himself in deep, deep trouble.  Peter had gone down to New Mexico to bail him out of jail and try to save him from a lynch-happy mob.  As always, his father had immediately disappeared after Peter had set things right, leaving behind a worried and enraged son.  Egon didn’t have written proof, but he suspected that his father’s scam had cost Peter more than nerves.  It had cost him a great deal of money, too.  And he would bet that the older Venkman had promised to repay him.

                Then, three days after Peter had come back to Central, a bust had nearly turned out fatal, with Ray spending two days in the hospital and a week at home.  Just before the accident with the thrower had been another accident involving Egon.  He had traded bodies with Slimer and after he had returned, there had been some after effects about which he had talked to Peter — after Peter had made him talk.

                Now Peter was experiencing a backlash of emotions he had suppressed far too long.  He couldn’t handle what had been thrown at him from outsiders and the other three Ghostbusters.  And it could destroy him if he didn’t find an outlet for these emotions.

                “Peter,” Egon tried again.  “Please talk to me.”

                “Nothing to talk about.”

                “Yes, there is.”  The physicist decided to take the frontal attack.  “A lot has been happening lately and I think it’s not only us who have been affected by it, but you, too.”

                Peter shrugged.  “Shit happens all the time in our line of work.”

                “Yes, but most of the time it’s not that we go on dumping on you.”

                “You’re not dumping on me!”  There was a hint of aggressiveness in the tenor voice.  Emerald eyes looked at him in defiance.

                “We are.  And we never notice that you might be the one who needs our help, too.”

                Another shake of the dark head.  “It’s okay.  That’s what I’m here for, ain’t it?” A wry, humorless grin.  “There’s nothing else I’m good at.”

                Egon flinched as he heard those words.  “Peter!  That’s not true.”

                “So?”  Now Egon had the full angry stare upon him.  “Then tell me what I can do!  I tried constructing machines and everything blew up.  Remember the gizmo to force Nexa to set you guys free?  Blew up right after I used it and I didn’t even have the brains to scribble down some notes on how I built it!  The microwave emitter failed!”

                “But everything you invented helped, Peter.”

                “And went kaboom later.  Yeah, great.”

                “But this is not what is bothering you,” Egon stated the very obvious.  “You’re not schooled in engineering like Ray and I are.  Your field is psychology.”  Peter had adopted a lot of technical skills since working with Ray and Egon, simply through osmosis.  He never displayed those learned abilities unless there was a crisis and he was needed, but he had them.  But Peter’s primary training was as a psychologist.

                Peter snorted.  “Talking,” he said in disgust.  “Playing mind games and spitting off phrases I’ve learned inside out.  And most times I say the wrong things at the wrong time.  I can handle a thrower, that’s all.  Everybody can do it.”

                Egon shook his head in growing concern and despair.  “No, Peter.  You are not saying the wrong things at the wrong time.”

                “Ha-ha, Spengs.  Don’t give me that crap.  Ninety percent of the time Janine sees me, she’d like to strangle me for what I said to her some other time.  Same goes for you, right?  I’m a nuisance, that’s what I am.  I disturb you, and Ray and even Winston when I’m around.  Every one of you can lend the other a hand with their projects, but Peter Venkman just sits in front of the TV, stuffs popcorn into his smart mouth, and behaves like he’s God’s gift to the world.  Yeah, great help I am!”

                The dark-haired man laughed humorlessly.  Egon was too shocked to say anything.  He had never expected Peter to break down like that.  The bitterness in his voice was unbearable.

                “Peter, you’re not a nuisance.  Well, most of the time,” he added with a grin he hoped Peter saw.  “But that’s you.  You are a very valuable member of the Ghostbuster team.”  He searched for the right words.  “You are what keeps us together.  It’s the way we interact.  And you’re always there when we need to talk.”  The blond man sighed.  “Now please let us be there for you.”

                Peter bit his lip.  “No,” he finally said.

                “Why?” Egon wanted to know.  “Why don’t you let us help you?  Don’t close up!”

                “Because it’ll get you back to square one!  Don’t you understand?”  There was a certain desperation in the other man’s voice.  “I don’t want to hurt you, Egon!”

                Egon understood.  Peter was completely stressed out by what had happened to the guys and by what they had talked about.  He was afraid that talking about this might throw all of them back to those bad days and unpleasant memories.

                “We came through this all right.  I can handle what happened to me, Peter.  You won’t hurt me.”

                “I can handle it, too.”  Peter sounded more dismissive this time.  He wanted Egon to leave.

                But the blond man had no intention of leaving.  “Stop lying to yourself, Dr. Venkman!  Nobody can handle what you had to.  You deal with our emotional outbursts all the time and don’t tell me that you go through everything unscathed.”

                Peter lowered his head onto his drawn up knees.  He closed his eyes, shutting out the man beside him.  He didn’t want to tell Egon about his turmoil of unsettled emotions.  He knew the other man was right about everything, though.  Peter couldn’t handle what had happened in the last months, but he wouldn’t let that fall onto the others.  They had talked with him about their problems.  Now Egon expected him to say that this was his problem.  What would happen if he did just that?  The guys would stop talking to him when they badly needed someone to listen to them, and that would make things worse.

                “Is this time so different from the times at college?” Egon suddenly asked, making Peter look up in surprise.

                “What?”

                “We always talked about our problems there and you knew I was ready to listen to you.  Just like Ray.  Why is this different?”

                “Because....”  Peter searched for words, stumbling over the problem.  “Because that time those problems had nothing to do with either of you,” he finally managed.

                “You are afraid we would never talk to you again and close up everything inside of us.”  Egon sighed as he said those words.  Peter flinched visibly, avoiding his eyes.  “It is not that way, Peter,” the blond continued.  “Please.....?”

                Peter stood abruptly, walking toward the lake.  Egon followed hesitantly, catching up with him after a few feet.  Peter stopped at the shore and shoved his hands in his pockets.

                “It’s getting cold,” Egon said and shivered a bit in the evening wind.  It was getting cold.  “Will you come home?”

                Peter shivered, too, but more from the cold inside his bones than the wind.

                “I’ve been thinking, Egon,” he said softly, barely loud enough for the other man to hear him.

                Egon bit back a remark about Peter and the concept of thinking, knowing it didn’t fit the situation.

                “What, if we run out of luck some time.  What would have been if we hadn’t been able to get you back from the Netherworld?  What if we hadn’t been able to switch your and Slimer’s brains again?  What if the next bust proves to be fatal for one of us?”

                The voice of the younger man held a seldom heard serious note, tinged with desperation and fear.  It made Egon hurt inside to hear the normally so humorous man brood like this.  Peter tended to do this from time to time, but it had never been this bad.

                “’Ifs’ never count, Peter.  You can’t go on and think about what might have happened and what might be happening if.  Life does not work that way.”

                Peter laughed without humor.  “Reading my books again, Spengs?”

                “Listening to you telling me this over and over.”  Emerald eyes met blue ones.  Egon placed a hand on Peter’s arm and squeezed it slightly.  “You know you can talk to us, even if it is about us and the way we take you for granted.  I know that I never really honor it that you are there to get me talking about what is bothering me.”

                The dark-haired man looked at him with surprise.  Then he shrugged again, indecision shining in his eyes.  “It has been hard lately,” he finally admitted in a low voice.

                Egon felt relief sweeping over him as he heard those words.  Peter was talking.  He squeezed the other man’s arm again.  “It’s been hard for all of us.  Don’t shut yourself out with your problems, because it won’t make it easier for us.  We all need someone to listen to us.  You are there for Ray, Winston and me.  Let us return that favor.”

                “I thought we had lost you when you were transported into the Netherworld.”  The emerald eyes clouded for a second as Peter was lost in this painful memory.  “I suddenly knew we had finally run out of luck.  And then Ray came up with the fact that you were not lost to us, but merely in another dimension.”  He sighed.  “And when we went after you and found you safe....  I never recognized my emotions.”

                “But now it all came back to you.  And then we burdened you with our problems, too,” Egon muttered, more to himself than to Peter.

                “You are not burdening me, Egon!  None of you!  You have to talk about what’s bugging you to get it out of your system!” Peter stopped abruptly, blinking.

                “Exactly,” the blond man said.

                There was a lengthy silence.  Finally, when it was nearly unbearable, Peter sighed.  “Remember that phone call two days ago?”

                Egon nodded.  He had wondered what all that had been about.  Peter had never talked about it.

                “It had been from the hospital.  Mrs.  Faversham had had an accident.”

                Egon paled a bit.  He knew how much the old lady meant to Peter and that it would hit him very hard if something happened to her.

                “It was nothing serious.  She turned her ankle when she took a misstep and her neighbor drove her to the hospital.”  Peter raked shaky fingers through his hair.  “When I heard about the hospital I was afraid I’d loose her, too,” he admitted.

                The little word ‘too’ made Egon wince.  “You didn’t loose anyone, Peter,” he said calmly.

                Peter’s green eyes blazed with barely contained anger and fury.  “I did loose you!  You were gone, Egon!  You dissolved right in front of my eyes!”  The younger man was shaking badly now and his hands were clenched into fists as he confronted Spengler with emotions he couldn’t contain any longer.  “I ... I heard you scream and then there was nothing left of you!  I didn’t imagine it!  It was REAL!  You died!”  The last was a barely controlled scream.

                Egon bit his lower lip — hard — to keep himself from shaking Peter, making him stop what he said.  Because those words brought back the experience, the pain of the transition into the Netherworld.  He understood now that Peter had refused to talk.  He understood why he had tried to erect even higher and more unbreachable walls around himself.  But he also understood that Peter had to release his pain -- now.

                “Peter....”  His voice wobbled a bit and he brought it back under control.  “Peter, I didn’t die.  I was merely transported into another dimension.”

                “For me, you did.”  The confession blurted out before Peter could hold it back.

                The psychologist turned away abruptly, intent on going, but Egon’s hand stopped him.  The blond man turned his friend back to face him, staring into the taut, thin face.  There were tears shimmering in the emerald depths of Peter’s eyes.  Without any more hesitation he took the younger man in his arms.

                “I am not dead, Peter,” he whispered into the other’s ear, his arms tightening around Peter as he tried to assure him he was really there through his hard embrace when visual evidence was not enough.

                The desperate clinging told him how close the usually closed up man was to a break down.  As Egon ran a soothing hand through the dark hair a muffled sob told him that Peter had finally released his hold on his emotions.  He muttered meaningless, comforting words as Peter cried, getting it all out of his system.

                Finally, very reluctantly, Peter let go.  He brushed the tears off his face, not meeting Egon’s eyes, blinking hard.  When he finally did look up, the physicist discovered to his relief that the shadows in the eyes were gone.

                “Okay?” he simply asked.

                Peter nodded.  “Thanks,” he said seriously.  Then he straightened abruptly, squaring his shoulders.  “Let’s go, Egon.  I’m getting cold.”

                “You should have dressed properly,” Egon remarked dryly, giving Peter a stern look.

                The dark-haired man smiled hesitantly.  “Wasn’t thinking.”

                “What else is new?”

                That drew a slight chuckle.  Peter inhaled deeply and went back to the sidewalk leading out of the park.  Egon smiled and followed him, knowing that the worst was over now and they could deal with the rest later.


End file.
